The Color of One's Eyes
by Severus' Secretary
Summary: When Harry Potter looked in the mirror, he did not see his reflection. No, really... he didn't. Dark!BorderlineEvil!Harry, possible future Slash, Harry/Vold know each other but don't -know- eachother. Just read. :
1. Prologue: The Early Years

The Color of One's Eyes

The screaming from inside had stopped a few minutes previous, but there was nothing he could do. He had to wait, and he hated it. He heard talking through the door, and a sense of dread filled him. The door opened.

Anxiety.

Dashing auburn met baby blue.

"It's a boy, Mr. Potter." Doctor Banks affirmed, with a light smile that seemed very pleasant on his features. The Doctor had been an employee of St. Mungos for nearly twelve years, and had since worked in four separate departments.

He'd seen fathers snarl, he'd seen mothers look in disgust upon newly born, hell, he'd even seen a godfather strangle a tiny girl that had just emerged from her mother's womb.

He'd seen horrors, and he'd seen joy. He'd seen pain, and death.

But, never before, had he seen tears.

Tears, and laughter.

_--_

The sky was crying outside… or, at least, that's what her mother'd called it. Her father'd not cared. Half th'time, she, she had t'sleep in the cold, cold tears…

There had been a hole in the roof right over her bed back home, right where she slept. When she tried to move the cot, she'd been rewarded by a snarl, and a harsh smack across the cheek. She hadn't tried to move it again.

That had been when she was nine.

Dark, murky forest green eyes shuddered as a soft moan left her lips. No, no… this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed t'be here, with the bright lights, and th'people she'd not know. It was supposed to be with him. But he'd _left._

And here she was, with horrid, horrible, painful contractions. She was birthing _their _baby _without _him…

But it would be fine, she knew, she knew it'd be fine. The lady said so, and it registered in some part of her broken mind, the words, they did…

It would be fine, because she knew that he would find his son, her son, their son…. How could he not, when she told the ugly, horrid, muggle lady the name of their son?

Tom after his father,

Marvolo after her father,

Riddle.

Tom would meet his father, she could feel it. And she'd meet him, again, in the afterlife…

The bright lights slowly dimmed, as did her gaze, that dark, murky forest green.

Three days later in the morgue, a thumb lightly closed the dead woman's eyes.

--

He was growing up so fast.

Auburn met emerald as James swept his wife into a kiss, simply ignoring the fact that his son was pouting up at them from his crib, the morning sunlight shining through the window. His wife, his Lily, had made the most _perfect_ boy in the entire world.

She had made his life worthwhile.

"Da! Da!"

No matter the prophecy, no matter that they were in hiding. He could simply forget it all, with one glance into the brilliant emerald of his wife's eyes, or the innocent gaze of his son.

And his wife, his Lily, was pregnant. She'd told him just this morning, this October the thirtieth.

"Ma!" Harry whined, trying to get their attention. They weren't looking at him, and he wanted something!

The boy grinned as his parents separated.

"I'm so glad he has your eyes, love. My gems, both of you. My green, beautiful gems…"

"Ma?"

"Oh, James, do shoo off!" Lily said, flustered. "You'll be late for work!"

"Ah, _shit_! Look at the time!" He was already late!

"Shi, shi, shi, shi!"

"_James Potter!_"

"Oh, Lily, I didn't mean it!" He cried from outside the room as he dashed to get his robe.

"Shi, shi, shi, shi--"

"_James!_"

She could hear him starting the fire downstairs, and the pregnant woman rolled her eyes. Oh, her husband, sometimes!

"I'll be back later, love! _Sorry!_"

"--shi, shi, shi, shi!"

"_Harry, _love, do _shush_!" She cried, exasperated. She bent over to bat ebony strands away from his eyes. "What do you want, love? Are you hungry?"

"Nuh, Ma, mi-- mi-- mi… wuh. Miwuh! Miwuh!"

Mi…wuh? What was that, the witch wondered? Was it--ah. The mirror she used when applying glamours to cover blemishes. She smiled warmly at the boy, scooping him into her arms. When they got to her bathroom, she held him up, so that he could see his own reflection.

"Do you see yourself, Harry? Do you see your eyes, my eyes?"

The little boy, blissfully, shook his head. He always liked looking in the mirror, looking at those muddy brown eyes on the other side. He picked up a hand to wave at the mirror.

The person on the other side waved back, and Harry grinned. Lily kissed his forehead as she shifted his weight, and started to make her way towards the kitchen.

Harry, pouting, apologized silently to the person on the other side.

The mirror-boy, with a bruise on his face, cast a forlorn gaze at the departing emerald-eyed boy. Muddy brown teared up, as he turned away from the cracked, hand-mirror that the orphan matron had handed him.

"Now go back to your room, you wretch! And take your horrid eyes with you! And for heaven's sake, Tom, stop crying!"

Tom looked up at her, sadly, as she took the hand-mirror from him, before shuffling away.

He loved looking in the mirror, and seeing those green eyes. The only problem… the only problem was that he never had use of a mirror. Tom was four, and ever since he could remember, he hadn't seen himself in a mirror.

He'd seen emerald eyes.

--

Harry was hiding in the bathroom. He knew that the longer it took him, the longer he had before he had to see his mean uncle. His mean uncle that had spanked him yesterday for playing with Duddley's toy robot.

He hadn't meant to, honest!

"It wasn't my fault." The small boy sniffed, as he sat on the edge of the sink-counter, looking into the mirror. "I, I didn't mean to make him mad…."

"I know you didn't, brother." Responded the muddy brown-eyed boy, with the light, soft black hair. "I believe you…"

"T-Tom?" Harry asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to wipe away the blood that he'd been coughing up.

"Yeah, brother?"

"W-will you come f-find me?"

"Ofcourse I will."

"Th-thanks."

Harry forced a smile. He knew Tom wouldn't be able to come immediately, he knew it. But he knew he'd come. He winced as his aunt shrieked at him from downstairs. "B-bye!"

Muddy brown threatened to tear up as emerald dashed from the mirror, towards who-knows-what. Tom was seven, though. He was older than his brother, and he'd be strong for him. He wouldn't cry like some sissy girl!

The small boy nodded to himself, resolute, just as he was pushed, face first, to the ground. Wha--?

"Talking to yourself again, freak?" The teal-eyed girl asked him, glaring.

One of her friends kicked him in the side, and it _hurt._ Tom cringed.

She kicked his hand, sending the small handheld mirror that he'd snitched spiraling out of his grasp. He heard glass shatter.

_No!!_

They'd broken his _mirror!_

They… they would _pay._

Tom snarled.

Oh, they would pay.

--

"Tom?" Emerald implored the mirror, and the nine-year-old on the other side cringed.

He couldn't stand the sight.

"T-T-Tom…"

"…what is it, brother?"

"Y-you look older…"

"I… I'm sorry, brother."

"S'okay."

"How long has it been for you since we last talked, little brother?"

"F-four days."

He sighed, a feeling of dread clenching in his stomach. Tom rarely, if ever, could find a mirror. Sometimes, when he did, it was at a store, and… he couldn't very well talk to brother with all the people around! The last time he'd talked to brother had… been… nine months ago!

"I'll try and snitch a mirror from the market, brother."

"Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you call me by my name?"

"Because I don't know it, brother."

"Well, it's H--"

"No!"

"…what?"

"I don't want to know your name, brother! I don't need to know it. I'll know who you are just by looking at your eyes."

"Oh. Okay!"

"You… you make sure you eat something, brother."

"I will, Tom." Harry said to the mirror, smiling.

Later, he felt guilty for lying.

--

"Tom?" He asked the mirror in the bathroom, with sad eyes.

He received no answer. He could see Tom, unconcious, and he could see the room around Tom.

And he could see the scarring tissue on Tom's throat.

One of the other orphans had tried to kill his brother.

Harry cried himself to sleep that night.

He was only six.

--

"Brother!" Tom grinned, his demeanor earlier completely gone.

"W-what, Tom?"

"M-magic! You won't believe it, brother! Magic… it's real! I'm going to learn magic, and I'll become so powerful, and then I'll come and take you from there, and--"

"…T-Tom, I've got to go weed the lawn…"

"I… I'm sorry, brother, I got carried--"

"S'okay. Sorry, Tom…."

"I'll--I'll tell you more about it next time, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Tom."

--

Harry had listened with awe at the stories, at all of these names, at the tales of Headmaster Dippet, Potion-Master Slughorn, Transfiguration proffessor Dumbledore, and much, much more.

"And the best thing, brother, is that there's a _huge_ library here. I'll find a way, I will. I'll get the power to find you."

Harry grinned, happily. He could always count on the muddy brown eyes of the boy on the other side.

"Bloody awesome, mate! Tell me more about… about the houses. What's Slytherin like, and why is Gryffindor so _horrid--_"

"Slytherin's bloody amazing! I've only been here for three days, and--and, oh, brother, you won't believe it. This mirror--it's in the bathroom _right next to the dormitory!_ I can talk to you every day!"

"Every day? Really?"

"Yeah, brother. Every day."

"You're the best, Tom."

"I try to be, for you."

--

"TOM, TOM!"

"What?" The fifth year asked, flustered. He was straightening his robes. "What is it, little brother?"

"TOM, TOM, you won't _believe_ it!"

"What is it? Brother, I have to go to breakfast and classes soon--just tell me, already!"

"I got my letter, I got my letter, it was in the post, and I got it, and I knew they'd take it away so I stuffed it down my shirt, and then I went back to the kitchen, and acted like nothing happened, and--and, _I got my letter!_"

"…Oh!" Tom said, his heart reaching out for the happy, eleven year old boy. His brother. He'd be able to meet his brother soon, maybe. "Oh, brother…that's _amazing._"


	2. As Time Passes

Three minutes to go. He could hear a car drive by the house, and was that the tree branches scraping on the window upstairs? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was someone coming to pick him up?

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds… twenty… ten… nine -- bloody hell, he wished the cupboard wasn't locked, then he'd go and wake Dudley up for the hell of it -- three… two… one…

BOOM.

The house shuddered and Harry was startled into an upright position, stifling a cry as his head hit the ceiling of his room. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

BOOM. They knocked again. Could it be… Tom?

Harry heard thumps, as his fat lard of an uncle thumping dust down onto Harry's head as he shuffled down the stairs. Harry looked up from his fading digital watch, peaking through the slots in the door.

"Who's there?" Vernon shouted. "I warn you -- I can call the police!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH.

The door was hit with such a force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

" An' where's Harry?" asked the giant, gazing inquisitively inside the doorway that he'd so recently knocked open. "Din' mean the wake him up, yeh know. D'yeh s'ppose yeh could go an'--"

"I demand you leave at once, sir!" Vernon said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune."

It was at this moment that Harry saw his turn come; he'd always, of course, make the best of any situation. And if adults found out that he was being forced to sleep under a cupboard, well…

"Mr. Giant, sir, I'm h-here!" He called out, putting a purposeful quiver in his voice. Just loud enough that there would be no mistake as to where the voice came from.

The boy knew how to play sympathy.

" WHAT?" The man roared. Heavy steps sounded through the house, followed by a shuddering of the stairway. The door to his cupboard had been pulled straight off. _"Bloody __muggles! _You mean ter tell me that a wizard… a _wizard_ is bein' kept in… in that here _cupboard!?_"

With wide, emerald, innocent eyes Harry asked one question:

"Sir… what are muggles and wizards?"

Tom would have been so proud of him.

--

"Hello," said the boy "Hogwarts, too?"

"Of course," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of something a certain muddy brown-eyed boy might do. That brought a smile to his lips.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry. "Not yet, at least. I haven't even seen a game of Quidditch."

"You don't play, then?"

"Well, I said I'd never even _seen_ one, so… I'd think it would be rather _obvious_." Harry replied, wondering how on earth the grey-eyed boy would ask the same question.

"Well. _I_ do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"Yeah. I'm banking on Slytherin."

"Oh… you are? Well. No on really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah. I think I would, too."

--

Ron stared as Harry brought a few packs of Chocolate Frogs back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"A bit." said Harry, opening a pack. He only had bought three.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

Harry peered over at the sandwiches, shrugging. It was more then he'd ever gotten to eat.

Ron looked awkward in the silence that followed.

--

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madame Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest then he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" the grey-eyed boy asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, isn't it?"

"Yes." Harry replied. He was looking at the other boys. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized… they probably were.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him, and Harry sent a slight glare the navy-blue-eyed boy's way. "Shut up, Ron."

Draco blinked in surprise, turning back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, and Harry took it, with a calculating look.

"I think I'd like that."

And he knew the reason he did it, too. It wasn't that he particularly liked the boy, or anything. He thought it wouldn't be too hard to become friends with him, but that wasn't why.

It was simple: Tom would have done the same thing.

He'd be damned if he wasn't going to establish connections.

--

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called, sending a brief wink back at Harry, and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his guards Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now.

"Moon" … "Nott" … "Parkinson".. then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" … then "Perks, Sally-Anne" … and then, at last--

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hisses all over the hall.

The last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the half full room of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of a hat. He waited, patiently. He knew what to expect.

Tom had told him what to expect.

_Tom, eh? Oh, my boy, you are an interesting one. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of loyalty, I see. An amazing mind, as well. There's talent, and courage, oh my goodness, yes -- and such a thirst to prove yourself!_

Harry smiled inwardly. Slytherin, Slytherin. He wanted to go to Slytherin.

_Are you sure, then? You could easily fit in Hufflepuff, with those other that are loyal--but, ah, you are only loyal to one. Such a difference. Plenty of bravery, yes, yes, you'd do very well in Gryffindor, where your parents were--you're sure, then, that would would not wish to fit in with those others of apt mind, the Ravenclaws?_

The hat got no response.

_Very well, then.__Better be…_"_SLYTHERIN!_"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat, and walked calmly towards the table. But… as he walked, there was something missing.

The room was deathly silent as the small first year looked for his Tom… his brother. But he wasn't there…

--

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blinked, taken off guard. But no matter--Draco had told him to expect such a thing back on the train, and told him he'd better study his books, and fast. And Harry had.

"The Draught of Living Death, sir."

Black, cavernous eyes bore into his own, narrowed.

"Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Your stores, sir. Or a stomach of a goat?"

But it was only temporary, for it seemed Snape had gotten what he'd looked for. The professor turned to glare at the rest of the class. "Well? Why aren't you all coping that down?"

--

"Tom?" He asked the mirror, sadly.

"Yes, brother?"

"You weren't at the start of term feast, Tom."

"I… I was."

"I looked for you, and--and, well, Dumbledore isn't Transfiguration professor, either. He's Headmaster, Tom."

"He… he is?" The brown eyes of the sixth year furrowed, frowning. "That does not make sense, unless--"

"Unless, it isn't--" Harry continued, following the same pattern of logic.

"What year is it, brother?"

"It's… it's 1991, Tom. I… oh, no. Oh, no."

Tom's muddy brown eyes met half-emerald, half-greyscale eyes, sadly. He'd been afraid of that.

--

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket -- but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of he way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Draco spoke up from his left. "Why the blood hell would something like this be here?"

Harry shrugged at the grey-eyed boy. He'd taken to, after all, bringing Draco along whenever he wandered in the halls. If nothing else, he was _protection._ Two wands were better then one.

But as soon as Harry peered into the mirror, he was shocked.

He saw _himself._

Green.

Emerald eyes.

And there, behind him, was his brother, and they were together, and they were a family, and and--for the first time, in his entire life, he saw himself in a mirror.

What _was_ this thing?

--

"It's Christmas here, Tom!" Harry said to the mirror, happily. He could see the boy on the other side packing his shampoo into a bag.

"Merry Christmas, brother!"

"Thanks." And he really meant it. That's all Tom had to do to make his Christmas worthwhile.

"Well, brother--I've got to go. End of term feast, and all."

"Oh. Then--then next time I'll see you, you'll probably be in your seventh year?"

"Probably. I'm going to be spending my summer apprenticing, you know--I've been sent for, by Grindelwald." Harry bit his lip, deciding not to share one of the things on the back of Dumbledore's chcolate frog card. Tom didn't need to know that Dumbledore would defeat said Grindelwald.

"Okay, then. I'll try not to look in a mirror for a while--to pass the time, you know."

"I'll miss you, brother."

Tom smiled, weakly. It just wasn't the same anymore. His little brother… his eyes… it just would never be the same, not since he'd made that Horcrux. His world had dimmed, becoming half-lustrous. His brother's eyes were no longer emerald. They were half-emerald, and…

Tom almost didn't want to admit it to himself, but…

It hurt too much to look at.

"Goodbye, brother."

--

Harry hummed to a song that wasn't playing, feet kicking back in forth playfully above his head, as he laid upon his bed in the dungeons, studying.

"Harry, the exams are ages away."

"Nope. Ten weeks." He corrected Draco, gently, before turning back to his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._ "Can't let a mud blood be top in class, eh, can I?"

Draco seemed to pause at that, as his fingers continued to apply the slick gel into his hair. "Well. Suppose you're right there, Harry."

--

Harry had stuck true to his word--he hadn't, since, looked into a mirror. Not even when he used the loo. Maybe that would make it easier to pass the time before Tom would talk to him again.

Because he remembered how it felt, that--that dull, ache. To look, one day, and see his brother smiling, and the next… to see him a year older.

Harry had put some thought into this… connection. He wanted to understand it. He wanted to know when he'd see his brother.

After hours, days of research in the library, he'd found next to no information.

There were only three weeks of school left. And Harry was filled with dread.

--

"Professor Snape, Professor!" Harry cried out urgently as he dragged Draco around by the wrist, Theodore Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle following behind, as well.

Snape, for his part, looked perplexed.

"And what do you think you're doing, Potter? Draco, what are these foolish antics about?"

"Severus, I--" Draco corrected himself, quickly, "We found out about the stone. Quirrel's going to go for it, tonight, sir! We overheard the Weasel and the mud blood talking to Hagrid about the monster, dog, and--"

"And Dumbledore's gone from the castle, professor. We went looking for him, and our prefect told us he wasn't here, so, we came to you, and--"

"Oh, please, Sev. You've got to believe us." Grey met cavernous black, as Snape blanked at the five in shock. He glanced at the three who hadn't spoken.

"And you, Theodore? Why are you here?"

"Well, professor, you see, back during Christmas break, when Draco invited Theo and I to his house, we--"

"I asked Nott, not you, Potter. Theodore?"

The said hazel-eyed boy shook his head, vehemently. "No, professor, this isn't the time! Quirrel's after the stone--please--!"

"Yes, professor, please, you have to believe us--" Harry continued, with a single thought on his mind: where was Tom when you needed him?

--

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. Harry sniffed. This was purely ridiculous.

"I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

"Maybe if you weren't such an incompetent waste of space, Quirrell, then--"

"Shut _up_, stupid boy!"

"I think that's what I'm implying _you_ are, you bloody fool! Can't even figure out the scary _mirror?_"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but the didn't give. To be so helpless--in this situation--with Snape unable to enter the room until he got back with more potion? It was beyond annoying! How was he supposed to keep his cool composure bound like _this?_

"If you don't _shut up_--"

"Then what, Quirrell? You'll go sob some more in unused classrooms? I'm _scared!_"

For he first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. "Sometimes," he said "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -- he is a great wizard and I am weak -- "

"Bloody obvious, you incompetent lump!"

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. He seemed unperturbed that Harry had not asked him. Instead, he kept talking. God did Harry want out of here--he wanted someone to come, to help him… but Draco was stuck in the last room… and Professor Snape was probably on the way from his lab with some more potion… and Tom was… well, Harry didn't particularly want to think about that!

"I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. My Lord showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, only power, and those too weak to seek it…"

Harry started at those words. Tom had said something… identical… not too long ago to him. Why would this lump's 'Lord'…"

"Does your 'Lord know someone by the name of--"

Quirrell ignored him, in favor of returning his efforts to the mirror. Harry sighed. It seemed he wouldn't be getting any answers from this fraud. "I don't understand…is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?

Harry rolled his eyes. Ofcourse. Come across a problem… the only solution must be… _break_!

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

To Harry's amazement, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. He didn't know that two souls could share a body…

"Use the boy… Use the boy.."

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes--Potter--come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry slowly took a step forward.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

_Well. I don' think I'll be surprised by what I see…_

And no, he was not. He looked in the mirror and saw himself--how odd was that?--and behind him, Tom came raging through the doorway, casting vicious spells at Quirrell. Harry sighed. No, that was impossible…

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry sneered.

"I see someone coming through that doorway and blasting your bloody useless excuse for an existence through the gates of hell, where you'll surely rot for all eternity, along with all the other weak people who follow blindly what they're tol--"

Quirrell cursed again, turning to the mirror.

"I see you've kept him off long enough, _Potter._"

Harry turned, his composure at the age of eleven evidently not strong enough to keep away the grin that spread at the sight of Professor Snape. Well, it wasn't Tom--but it was close enough , for now.

--

"Professor, I'd like to thank you again, Sir, since it's end of term tomorrow, and I'm completely in your debt. I'm not quite sure what I would have done if you hadn't've gotten back when you had…"

He received the calculating look with not a shiver. He nodded his head towards the professor, a slight smirk on the edge of his lips.

"I assume there was a reason for this visit… Potter?"

"Ofcourse, Sir." He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing. Why would he go about thanking people with no ulterior motive? "I was wondering if it would be possible for me to acquire forms from the Ministry, you know, adoption papers--"

"Yes, Lucius had mentioned the offer to me…"

"Could you help me, Sir?" Harry waited, patiently. He knew that this was a stretch, but--he could hope.

"I think that it would be… possible… to aid the person who has won us the House Cup. Yes, I think I could, Potter."

"Oh--thank you, Professor! Thank you so much! And, please, I know I'm asking a lot, but would it be possible to not inform--"

"Professor Dumbledore? Perhaps."

Harry was struggling not to grin in delight. He'd asked Tom, and he'd approved. With a name like _Malfoy_ behind him… Harry would be in a _very_ powerful position.

"Ofcourse, Potter, I will not be able to keep this from the press, or from the Headmaster's informants in the Ministry…"

"I realize that, Professor. Thank you. Draco wanted me to thank you, as well, and I am ever so grateful to not have to return to--to--"

Severus Snape waved him off. He knew what he meant. It took one to tell one, he supposed.

--

"Tom?"

Harry nearly gasped at what he saw. Tom, he was--had it been… had it been _years? _The sight that he saw, it was--well, if he could admit it to himself, it astonished him.

His wide green eyes widened at the sight of his brother. He had to be… what… in his twenties? Early twenties?

"Yes… brother?" Muddy brown met emerald.

"You're--how old are you?"

"Twenty two."

"I suppose you haven't looked in a mirror in--four _years_, then?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, brother, it's just--oh, there's too much story to tell! Where are you, anyways? I don't recognize the room."

"This? This is my room at the family manor. 'Father' rushed the paperwork--I'm only two weeks out of term, and I'm already a _Malfoy_."

"Congratulations are in store, then. A very smart move on your part."

"Oh, it was actually Draco who came up wih the idea…I think I told him a little too much about my life at my uncle's."

Tom's brown eyes glanced up at that, as he seemed to fight off a sigh. "That seems awfully weak of you, brother. You can do better then that. I've taught you better than that…"

"I know. I was weak. I'll try harder to not let anybody know what I feel, Tom."

"You'll only be taken advantage of if you don't."

"I know." Harry smiled lightly. "Don't you have an evil empire to run or something? Go give Dumbledore hell."

"I will, brother. I _will_."


End file.
